Big Imagination

Our kitchen light switch has a flip-down cover and a bunch of extra buttons to program the light.
Zsa Zsa had the flap down and was pressing lots of buttons. This concerned The Boy. He tried to get her to stop, and when she wouldn't, he went to a higher authority.

"DAD! Do those buttons make the house explode?!?"

Cute Kid Stuff

I've been collecting things my kids say that are adorable. It's time to put them here before the kids erase them from my phone. :)

The Boy:

I know a great recipe for mud.  Dirt and water.  I know how to make salty mud, too! Dirt, salt, and water.


Mom, I want to play a board game. Why? Because I'm bored!


With my new bike I can totally win first place in the slow motion bike race!


Zsa Zsa:


I say Zsa Zsa in Dutch. Zsa Zsa in Dutch. I DID it! 


I was reading the Ensign (church magazine). Zsa comes up and says, "That's Jesus! Does he say, 'behold'?"


I think the baby is gonna pop out and do a funny dance like this!  (funny dance commences complete with jazz hands)


Aunt Nancy asked Zsa what our new baby's name would be. She paused and seriously considered before stating, Sleeping Beauty. 


CJ:


Smiled while she was awake. :D 

Morning Routine

When I wake up the first thing I do is check to see if the baby fell out of my uterus during the night. (Hey, it could happen.) Then I check in with my brain to see if, while sleeping, I've had an epiphany and can finally attach a moniker to the parasite currently inhabiting my womb.
We are having a devil of a time even coming up with a list of names for this baby. Hubs keeps shooting down all the good ones like Howard, Cedric, and Pedro. Names that end in 'S' are out and recently I learned about this thing called a sibset or sibling set. Apparently you have to choose names for your children that "go together".  Whatever. That would have been useful information to have BEFORE I started naming little people.

Then I make my kids' breakfast. No matter what I make, The Boy will complain or ask why he didn't get "a hundred of it".

Then I explain to Zsa Zsa how it's not "an accident, mama" if you did it repeatedly and on purpose. You'd think that conversation wouldn't be a daily morning occurrence, but only if you didn't know my daughter. Today it was in regards to slamming the silverware drawer. Over.and.over.and.over.again.

I get about 10 minutes of alone time in the shower while the kids watch Sesame Street before someone is mean to someone else or uses a "language word" the other kid feels mom needs to know about. At this point I'm lucky if that's long enough to shampoo and shave one leg.

Being a mom is super glamorous. Especially first thing in the morning.

The Post Wherein I Insult People of Nominal Intelligence and Large Bank Accounts

I'm kinda grumpy. It could just be the hormones, but I sort of want to punch Santa in the face for being at the mall before Thanksgiving has even had a chance to get here.
It feels like the stores are telling me to HURRY UP AND BUY CRAP!!!! FORGET ABOUT BEING THANKFUL!!!

Thanksgiving is my second favorite holiday. Partly because it's an excuse to eat as much pumpkin pie as I can possibly fit in my tummy-guilt free, and partly because it's not about STUFF; it's about being grateful. Easter is my favorite holiday for nearly the same reasons, except you can sub Cadbury mini eggs for pie. I also like that I have an entire day devoted to feeling grateful for my Savior. How cool is that? (Also, if someone can explain how colored eggs and a bunny fits in with the Resurrection, I'm all ears.)


Anyway, back to wanting to punch Santa in the face.

Today I read about this thing called a Baby Planner or Baby Consultant. Yes, these are real people. They apparently help you buy the best gear for your little Smurf or Smurfette. I'll admit my first thought upon hearing about this was, what is F-ing WRONG with people? My second thought was, how can I take advantage of these morons?" 


Seriously, if you have THAT much money, and no common sense, don't I have a moral obligation to relieve you of your excess Benjamins? Someone should and it may as well be me, since I actually know how to use money, unlike the flakes who hire a Baby Consultant.

Here's a little piece of free advice that includes all the things you MUST have to care for your new baby: baby carrier, diapers, wipes, some clothes, and if you want to obey the law-a car seat. If you're feeling particularly daring, might I suggest you go get a BRAIN as well?
Holy Toledo. If you need any more help, I'd be happy to consult for you. I won't even insult you (to your face). My fee starts at $500 an hour. Trust me, I'm VERY worth it. I'm so full of opinions, I needed a blog to spout them all.

PS Bill, this one was for you.

Fashion Stuff I Don't Get

I know that I'm old and for the most part leave the house wearing old tee shirts and no makeup and that I rarely do my hair.
But I can still tell what's hip, fashionable and what's SO last season.

Which is why I need somebody to PLEASE tell me what I'm missing with the following trends?

1. Chevron EVERYTHING: rugs, mugs, fabric, wall paint design. Seriously? A Chevron is a military insignia or a gas station, not a fashion statement.

2. Non edible items that look like sushi. Maybe I would understand this more if I liked something sushi-ish besides California rolls, but Dudes, man mastered fire and the 90 second Electrolux boil which means meat can (and should) now be COOKED!

(this is a sushi pillow)

(This seemingly edible child is just wrong on so  many levels. 

Also, what does a banana have to do with sushi?)

I get it with bacon, though. Non edible plush bacon is just cute!

see?

To sum up:

Wrong

Right. 

3. Crafts using paint chips. Seriously? 

And those are my fashion quandaries for September, 2011.
(images courtesy of Pinterest and ThinkGeek.com)

PS For the record, I'm very on board with steam punk. In fact, I've thought it was cool since at least 2008 so clearly, I'm trending WAY before the curve. ;)

Random Funny One-Liners and Convos from Today

Zsa Zsa is playing with a 3-D Nativity puzzle. Her commentary goes like this, "beHOLD! beHOLD! beHOLD!" "Dee red guy goes next to de blue guy. Dee blue guy is next to de guy with de lamb..."

Talking with The Boy about our day I mentioned that we would be going out to the bank.
"But I don't LIKE the bank!"
"Really? Abby (our banker) always gives you candy".
"Oh yeah! I like that place!"


"Mom. I want a hanguber with chicken and salad in it."
"OK, you want a chicken sandwich."
"No! A hanguber with chicken and salad in a bun."
"A hamburger has brown meat, a chicken sandwich has chicken. Do you want a hamburger or chicken?"
"I want a hangabur with chicken!"
<mom orders Chick-Fil-A chicken sandwich. Boy is happy.>

Vacation: Lake Tahoe Day One

We made it. The first day was NOT stellar, but really, any day that starts with vomit before breakfast just isn't destined for greatness, so I shouldn't have been surprised.

After my gallbladder forced my stomach to evacuate it's paltry contents (during family prayer), we loaded up the kids and said our goodbyes to Idaho.

Once in Reno, the kids and I dropped Dad off at the hotel for his Geek Convention TM and headed over to Costco. Did you know at the Reno Costco they make you show your card before you can use the BATHROOM? Did you also know that while you're digging the card out from the cheerios on the bottom of your purse, they will close the bathroom and laugh at you and your two small children doing the potty dance until another (female) employee takes pity on the three of you and makes the bathroom guy let you in? True story. I would not make up a tale about potty dances.

The kids and I shopped a week's worth of groceries and then drove on out to the condo at lake Tahoe. Which is when we found out the condo boasted a MINI fridge. Oh yeah, baby.
Here's what I bought:
pizza
whole chicken
2 gallons of milk
tub of salad mix
2.5 lbs cheese
1/2 flat raspberries
2 lb blueberries
2 dozen eggs
jam
ranch
veggie tray
watermelon
tortillas
lunch meat
Um yeah. It all fit. (not)
The first night I cooked the pizza and it touched both edges of the oven, because the fridge isn't the only mini thing about this condo. It's kinda like living in Japan. Diminutive.
Oh, and the fire alarm went off when I opened the oven to get the pizza out. It wasn't even crispy yet, let alone burnt.

I took the kids swimming, Zsa Zsa got a bloody nose when the car door ran into her face and  that about sums up the first day. Luckily, Day two was better.

Random Boy

Yesterday the kids and I were running errands. Zsa Zsa, upon getting buckled into her seat, told me she was going to sleep. The Boy handed out this little gem:

"Mom, I'm not sleepable right now. When I *am* sleepable, I'll go to sleep, OK?"
"OK"
"I want to be a fireman with a fire HAT and fire BOOTS and a fire JACKET and ALL that stuff!"

What can I say? He can't help being that random. It's genetic.

The Boy, Wit-ified

Hello?
Is this where I'm supposed to write something witty and clever?
Oh good. I'm in the right place. Sadly, I have nothing witty or clever to impart, so instead I'll leave you with some gems from The Boy. He's rather hilarious right now, being four, and all.

"Mom, I'm hot. <pauses for effect> I get that from you." <nods solemnly> Somebody's Daddy has been teaching him how to flirt.                                                                                                   


Scene: family at the dinner table, parents discussing terabytes and petabytes.                            
The Boy: :What's a petabyte?"                                                                                              
Mom: It's a unit for measuring data.                                                                                                  
The Boy, without skipping a beat: And mommas.                                                                            
Both Parents laugh hysterically as they realize he thought mom meant DADDA.

"When did you turn four?" Look of incredulity on his face as he replies, "On my birthday". His face had that look that just screamed, "what kind of adult are you, anyway!? Of COURSE I turned four on my birthday!"

And here are some pictures he obviously thought were important enough to take up the memory on my wimpy SD card. 

I can't decide which I like best, Stoned Zsa Zsa, or Ghetto Booty Zsa Zsa. Either way, for sure he's a budding Robert Doisneau, except I don't think he paid Zsa Zsa. If he did, I'll need to have a talk with my daughter...

This report brought to you by: A slightly worried mother of future teens. Aka:IdahoBecky

Master Bath Update

The Great Master Bath Gender Reassignment has been underway for at least a month now. I would like to say this is because we are doing things as we can pay cash for them, but that's really just a nice way of saying The Hubs and I suffer from cheapbastarditis. Also, we are lazy.

But not so lazy that we would, you know, actually hire a plumber to do the plumbing. See above medical condition.

Which brings me to my story for the day. Yesterday I bought new sink fixtures. They are pretty. I'm assuming they are functional, when installed by someone who knows what the heck plumbers tape is and where to find it in Home Depot.
At 10pm (our normal bedtime) I looked at The Hubs and said, "Hey! Lets go install one of those sinks so I can quit washing my hands in the bath tub. I'm too lazy to bend over any more to wash." I was joking, of course. Sort of.

This is the point at which The Hubs and I both forgot neither of us are plumbers. The Hubs "turned off the water" and proceeded to unscrew some stuff that looked important. At which point IT happened.

Have you ever been to Yellowstone?

We don't need to go again, because any time we want to re-experience the geysers, we can just try to plumb something.

An hour and a full closet of towels later, we still have two non-functional sinks, but one of them is MUCH prettier.

And I was SO proud of The Hubs for keeping his plumber's crack covered through the entire affair, but now that I think on it, maybe plumber's crack is what makes one a plumber.

Ah well. Now I'm off to Home Depot again for plumber's tape, and maybe I'll see if they have a deal on cracks and pick up a pair.

Wishing

EDITED FOR HUMOR. It's better now. 
I feel like the very best blogs are the one's that really let you in to a person's life. I would LOVE to have a "very best blog" but my mother reads this. And my mother-in-law has the URL and could potentially read it. Plus, I'm trying to maintain my PG rating. Sort of.

And so, I have to leave you in the dark about some stuff. Poor you. Or not.

Were I to attempt telling you stuff without actually telling  you stuff, it might go like this:

     My ____________ in law said that I _____________________ to my ___________ which is just ridiculous because obviously ____________________and also, what would I even be DOING in a heard of stampeding rhinos?


Here's another thing I'd LOVE to tell you, but can't. Because I promised.
One time __________and I were in ____and after we ______sweet sweet _______ I looked ______and realized that ___________ was ____________black ____________ which is SO not the same as pantyhose. Football player or no, that was not the time, nor place. 


It's just not as good edited, you know?

Something I WILL tell you is that I'm within 2 pounds of my wedding weight. That's kind of a big deal after having two kids.

It's slightly less of a big deal when you see my wedding picture and realize I've always been, eh hem, healthy. (ish)

Isn't my husband so handsome? I know it's not the best picture of him, but weddings are never about the groom. They're about the mothers bride.

PS I've spent most of today baking a carrot cake cheese cake. Tomorrow is the big reveal. I've been hungry all day just thinking about it.

Um...and Shopping with Zsa Zsa

I re-read my post from yesterday. Can we just all agree that I should NOT post ANYTHING

when I'm hormonal?

Good.

Moving On...

Today I took Zsa Zsa with me to Wal Mart. Oh, just the one kid? you're thinking. Yeah. Just the one. Thing is, she forgot to nap today. Some kids get whiny, other kids get sleepy or clingy. Not my daughter. Skipping a nap for her is the equivalent of downing a box of no-doze, four Red Bulls and a couple hits of speed. That kid was WIRED.

Example: In the Wilton cake decorating area, she found the ONLY container of food color gel that happened to have product on the outside of the container. Before I had time to scream "NO!" and move, 1/2 speed movie-style, she had it all over both hands, her face AND her dress. Did I mention it was Red?

After cleaning up that little treasure, I tried to get her to ride in the cart. This is OK, as long as you have one hand on her head, holding her down at all times. If not, she thinks it's a GREAT idea to stand up and launch herself head-long in your general direction, whether or not you happen to be looking, or even facing her. OBVIOUSLY the Mommy will catch her. We caused no less than 4 snow bird heart attacks, but don't worry. She never once hit the ground.

At that point, due to the rapidly escalating need for EMS and cardio paddles, I figured it was safer to let her walk. The trouble is, I take my offspring to The Children's Museum on a regular basis. The same museum that has a very realistic child-sized grocery store in which the children are encouraged to role-play. How did I not see this would translate into my daughter thinking it would be OK to "help" me shop? Daughter. Daddy does NOT need those Depends...or the Ben Gay.

When she got done helping me shop, her new idea of fun was to run the entire length of the isle, make the turn going full tilt, and then peak her head back around the isle to see what was taking me so long. Remember that Red Bull and speed? Yeah. THEN she started to take off fast so she could run in front of oncoming old people's carts, the ones EMS didn't already cart off for Advanced Life Support, stick her hand out like a traffic cop, and smile charmingly. The snowbirds all thought this was adorable. The few people who actually had anywhere else to be that day were less amused.

My daughter displayed every indication of needing Valium, but all she REALLY needed was a nap. Too bad Wal Mart doesn't carry Valiums or naps, because I could use one of each about now. I guess it's a good thing they do carry No-Doze and Red Bull.  

This amusing anecdote has been brought to you by: IdahoBecky.

One Upping: A Funny Story

Friday I found a $5 variable speed Black & Decker Sander. {Choirs of Angels Singing the Glory of My Craigslist Prowess}. On the way to pick up this little treasure, we ran a few errands. One of which consisted of picking up a pizza and taking it to the park so our hungry children could eat dinner and quit whining in the back seat.
At the park, we were, eh hem, privileged to meet some future stars of the MTV hit show, Jackass. One in particular stood out. This young man was really something. I'm guessing he's about 8 and we shall call him Scooter, because obviously his parents didn't care enough about him to give him a real name...or any child-rearing-ness.

Dear, sweet Scooter was playing the One-Up Game with a 6 year old I'm calling Reginald, because he was the less obnoxious pre-pre-teen.  This game consisted of  Bud saying something completely ridiculous like, "I'm the Neighborhood Champion of Skateboarders. I won by going down these stairs!" Then Reginald would say, "Well, my friend, Suzy Q, is the best! She did jumps from HERE! (pointing to the very top of a play structure pole). Then our little TV starlette wannabe would prove his skillz by (badly) performing a "trick".
Truly, it was hilarious.  The hubris was so thick, I nearly choked on it as I tried mightily to contain my mirth.
The best bit was when Scooter attempted a "trick" he just couldn't manage and introduced his face to the concrete. At that point, there really was no way to stop the laughter. It was guffaw, or die. And by die, I mean soil myself.
Needless to say, there's a reason I don't watch Jackass on television. It's much better live.

Addiction

It's time to speak out about my daughter's addiction. We've known about it for quite a while, but lately it's gotten completely out of hand.
I'm in tears as I write this.
Researching treatment facilities has consumed my day. It turns out, there aren't any for this particular addiction! How can that BE! Surely celebrities have children with the same problem as Zsa Zsa! It's outrageous something hasn't been done about this. Just outrageous. I thought for SURE there would be something in California. They have treatment centers for every possible addiction, why not THIS one?!?
We should all petition Oprah...or something.

The breaking point came when I was changing the sheets today and found THIS under her pillow.

Hording and hiding is a sign of serious addiction. Please pray for us and for Zsa Zsa. We hope to break the binkie cycle very soon.

PS This has been a work of sarcasm. Note, and move on.

Randomness

• This morning, The Boy dressed in front of his bedroom mirror. Apparently this is the first time he's done it, because he came out of the bedroom flicking his nipples and said, "Mom? What are these?" I was hard-pressed to keep a straight face as I answered. You'd better believe The Hubs and I got a laugh out of that after bedtime.
• My little Zsa Zsa is turning into quite the talker. Gems like, "Mom! I do it mySELF!" and "O-nja, I lika da o-nja." (Orange) are common.
• She throws hissie fits when she can't be understood or when she can't do something she really REALLY wants to do. So...I'd say a minimum of 10 times a day. Today it was kite flying, or if you're Zsa Zsa, "tight! I fye it! TIGHT!!!"
• The above mentioned kite came with us to the park for our picnic. It turns out it's really much easier to fly kites without kids around. Every time I got the stupid thing airborne, one of The Boy's silly friends would step on the tail (it's a very long tail) and the kite would come crashing back to earth. If, by some miracle, I managed to get the thing airborne and hand over control to a kid, the kid would do something to de-elevate the kite. It was a disaster, but one enjoyed by the many mothers who watched me run like an idiot with a two-year-old in one arm and kite string in the other. I'm pretty sure they were the only ones enjoying it.
• While we're on the subject of picnics, I don't know why I bothered to bring food. I'm the only who eats when we go on a picnic. Each of my kids ate just enough to sustain a fruit-fly and then ran off to play. You'd think that would pretty much ensure a good dinner, right? Nope. They pecked at dinner and then scarfed the raw cookies I made for dessert. And then asked for eggs.
• I really, really enjoy my kids. Especially after bedtime, when they are no longer whining at me.

In House :) No Internet :(

We are back in our HOUSE! YAY!
It doesn't feel like our house yet, though. Maybe the carpet guy got the carpets too clean?
Or maybe it's because all our stuff is in the garage, so the house feels like one of those model homes that has all the furniture and none of the "lived in-ness".
Secretly, I like it. Except there's no towels and no food.
Seriously. We had to go to Costco for lunch, because I'll be a monkey's uncle if after WEEKS of saying "no" when the kids asked for cereal for lunch, I caved and let them have it.
They got pizza instead.
I got a diet coke. The first one in a year. I feel a little sick.

Anyway, so one of the downsides of moving is you have to get the internet turned back on. I haven't done that yet. I'm my way to over there right now.
Why don't you do that over the phone, you ask? I'll tell you.
To turn it on over the phone they want my social security number.

Um. No.

I don't even give it to the doctor or hospital because dudes; I've worked there.

ZERO security.

I figure if the HOSPITAL doesn't have decent security protocols for personal info, the cable company doesn't, either.
So, I have to treck down there and give them $50 and my first born. They can have him. Today he called me a Butt...and spilled milk on my clean carpet.

My Birthday

This year my birthday has really snuck up on me.
I think that means I'm getting old.
I had come to terms with the 6 gray hairs in my part, even.
Then...
I found a gray hair in my EYEBROW (which I promptly plucked, because, hello gray eyebrow hairs and chasing toddlers don't go together)
This new discovery made me re-count the gray hairs in my part.

TWELVE.

GASP!  

When did this happen? I'm willing to bet half are child-caused and the other half are school related. 

Ms. Clairol and I need to have a serious discussion.
I'm fine with being mature but I am NOT OK with gray eyebrows.
Back to my birthday, or lack thereof.
This year the presents are kinda boring.
The Hubs got me prescription sunglasses. I'd say I need these because I'm old, but I've worn glasses since 3rd grade. I REALLY need these because my current sunglasses are SO last decade...and three prescriptions old. I get headaches switching back and forth. Eves Saint Laurent frames, normally $250, but I got them for $18, because I'm awesome like that. And they were discontinued. :)
We were going to try cross country skiing this week, but alas! Time, money and motivation were all in seriously short supply over the weekend. Instead, I'm going to take a math final for my birthday.
Hooray.

The Bed-A Satire

I don't know WHAT The Hubs gets up to at night, but every morning our bedding is in complete shambles. Before I was married, I woke up in a bed that was already made. One flip of the covers to get out, and reverse it to make the bed.
Now, it takes a planning meeting and SpecOps forces to put our bed back together again, because All The Kings Men and All the Kings Horses just weren't cutting it anymore.
I've quit trying. Making the bed simply can not occupy half my morning.
I had a new strategy that consisted of :

1. Agreeing with The Hubs that the last person out of bed had to be the one to make it
2. Getting up earlier than The Hubs.

Apparently, he thought of the same strategy, because suddenly I'm waking up to an empty bed at 4:45am.
I can't compete with that.

Resistance is futile. I'm giving in to the dark side and leaving the bed unmade. Don't tell my mother.

The Saga of a Song

Every night, Zsa Zsa and I have a routine.

I get the toothbrush, she yells "TEEF!!!" and we brush.

We say a prayer with the family.

I read her a story.

Then we shut her doors, say good night to the baby in the mirror and flip off the light after which Zsa Zsa says, "rock-a-bye".

We sit in the rocker and she snuggles into my chest and dictates the songs. 

Always the same songs.

Always in the same order. 

1. "Sunbeam!" I get two bars in and she stops me.
2. "Jesus!" This can get confusing because she either means "Sunbeam" again, or "I Am A Child of God"
3. "Heavenly Fadder!" This one is "I Am A Child of God"

This is all well and fine until we get to nursery on Sunday, because in nursery, we sing these songs. She does OK until we get to "I Am a Child of God" at which point my already tired daughter throws a MAJOR hissy fit. We're talking, screaming, falling to the floor, heal banging included, until the song is over.

Every.  Week. 

Sunday Sickness and Random Health Facts

You can probably tell from my typing; I'm sick.
A giant bullfrog has taken up residence in my throat so NATURALLY I took this excuse reason to stay home from nursery church. I thought I'd scare the nursery kids. I thought this even though my own children laugh uproariously any time I open my mouth to talk.

Random Factoid aka ADD strikes again:

Froggy voices almost always mean virus, not bacteria, 

so don't bother going to the doctor, unless you wanted to give him $120 anyway.

My MALT (mucosa associated lymphoid tissue) is swollen. Just a few weeks ago I would have said my lymph nodes are swollen. Now, I laugh at anyone who says that. OBVIOUSLY your lymph nodes are swollen if you're sick, but you can't tell by feeling them. They are too small! You can, however, palpate the MALT. Mine's roughly the size of Texas.

Anybody know where I put the Niquil?